


I'm Here to Fuck Your Brother

by armsoftheocean



Series: in another lifetime [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Friends With Benefits AU, M/M, Rimming, Smut, cute dumbs who can't admit they like each other, i have no idea what this is dont look at me, sliiiiightly possessive ian i know some ppl dont like that so? yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armsoftheocean/pseuds/armsoftheocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Name’s Mickey. Nice to meet you,” he begins, his expression emphasizing just how nice he found the meeting to be, “but I’m actually just here to fuck your brother."</p><p>(or when Mickey and Ian are fuck buddies and then they're something more)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Here to Fuck Your Brother

**Author's Note:**

> I saw **[this](http://texts-from-the-south-side.tumblr.com/image/103578844181)** and it made me laugh and then I was like _but wait what if that actually could happen_ and voila. AU in the sense that ? well it's an AU idk they're just fwb in their 20s

Mickey raps his knuckles against the door while tugging on the edge of his collar with the other hand. He tries to quickly smooth down his ungelled hair, which is still wet and messy from the shower at the gym. Yeah, so fucking _what_ if he was a little nervous. He and Ian limited their fucking to Mickey's apartment for the duration of their arrangement, until Mandy got fed up with their noises and threatened Mickey with her baton. And considering Mickey was the one who taught her to use it when she was eleven, her baton-wielding skills were borderline terrifying.

After a muffled _coming!_ shouted from inside the apartment, the door swings open to reveal someone about Mickey's height and age, with curly brown hair and blue eyes.

"Can I help ya?" he asks, his eyebrows arching up obnoxiously, leaning against the doorway, barring Mickey's entrance. The blue eyes trace Mickey's knuckle tattoos, his beat up leather jacket and overall intimidating appearance. Well, as intimidating someone of Mickey's stature could be. "I'm pretty sure I paid my dealer last time," he says again, his voice approaching a mocking tone.

Mickey rolls his eyes, realising that it must be Ian's douchebag of a brother, Lip; the redhead constantly waxed hero-worship poetry about him. Mickey shifts uncomfortably as Lip's blue eyes continue to stare him down.

"Name's Mickey. Nice to meet you," he begins, his expression emphasizing just how nice he found the meeting to be, "but I'm actually just here to fuck your brother, so if you wouldn't mind moving and clearing the fuck outta here, that'd be fuckin' swell."

Mickey watches in gleeful satisfaction as Lip's features arrange themselves in a comical, shocked fashion at Mickey's straightforwardness.

"Mickey? Hey! Didn't realise it was nine already."

Mickey directed his attention behind Lip to the tall, grinning redhead approaching the doorway. Mickey's eyes trace the hard planes of Ian's body, clad in a tight, faded green t-shirt.

"Hey man," he finds himself smiling at Ian's presence, before pushing Lip's arm and stomping into the apartment, toeing his shoes off on the entrance mat. Dropping his gym bag next to the coffee table, he throws himself on the couch and kicks his feet up onto the table next to a pile of thick engineering textbooks, shooting Lip a smirk.

"Make yourself comfortable, why don't you," Lip mutters, yanking his textbooks away from Mickey's offending feet.

"You want a beer or something?" Ian asks Mickey, backing towards the kitchen.

"Dumb fuckin' question – 'course I do," Mickey snorts, shooting Ian a light smile, as he takes in Ian's apartment. It's small, with the living room taking up the majority of the area before leading into the kitchen, and a short hallway which presumably lead to the bedrooms.

Mickey stares at the flat screen in front of him, focusing intently on anything except Lip's probing blue eyes, attempting to squash the ball of nerves building inside his stomach. He and Ian had been fucking around for a few weeks now; going out for drinks at small dive bars downtown with a movie here and there, which Mickey firmly told himself _wasn't_ dating, since their outings always ended with sex back at Mickey's place. And yeah, so fucking _what_ if Mickey let Ian kiss him? He'd become a fan of it, especially when the lips were attached to a redhead with pale skin, who had one hand down Mickey's pants and wrapped around his dick.

He's jolted out of his trance when Ian's body, which practically radiates heat like a furnace, plops down next to him with a six pack of beer. Ian hands Mickey a bottle, his hands brushing Mickey's fingers.

An awkward silence settles in the room, and Mickey shoots another glance at Lip, who's seated himself in the armchair opposite of him, and is watching the two of them with growing amusement.

Ian follows Mickey's line of sight and shoots his brother a dirty look. Mickey watches the pair have a silent conversation with their eyes.

Ian continues glaring at Lip, tilting his head to the side. Lip rolls his eyes, before crossing his arms defiantly and leaning back into the armchair, a smirk still playing at his mouth. Ian lets out a huff of air, before scooting closer to Mickey on the couch, deliberately pressing a warm hand against Mickey's thighs. Mickey's eyebrows shoot up in confusion as Ian begins to rub his jean-clad thigh, inching up closer and closer to his crotch.

"The fuck, Gallagher?" Mickey hisses out, shooting an irritated look at the redhead, whose attention is firmly focused on his smirking brother. Just as he's about to push Ian's hand off of him, Mickey lets out a snort when he realises what Ian's trying to do. Taking a sip of his beer, Mickey leans back into the couch, letting Ian's hand continue its ministrations on his thigh.

Lip glares back at Ian, making a show of getting comfortable in his chair. Ian moves in even closer to Mickey so that he's practically in the dark haired man's lap, causing Mickey to bristle slightly.

"You assholes realise this is fucking ridiculous, right?" Mickey says, breaking the awkward silence, grimacing slightly as Ian's rubbing had gotten painful. He jerks his leg away, pushing the pouting redhead off of him, before taking a swig of beer.

"I pay half the rent!" Lip says, shooting a scowl in Ian's direction. "Why should _I_ leave so you can have sex with your boyfriend?"

"Lip!" Ian exclaims, his face turning beet red as Mickey chokes on his beer at the mention of the word _boyfriend_ , and his eyes begin to water as the coughing doesn't subside. Ian thumps Mickey on his back, and Mickey catches his breath as the coughing dies down.

"We're not – I – _boyfriend?_ " Mickey sputters out, before pinching the bridge of his nose and standing up abruptly. Ian's eyes widen as Mickey stands up, ready to physically restrain him if he was trying to leave.

Mickey detects the panic in Ian's eyes and rolls his eyes. "I'm going to the washroom."

"Down the hall, first door on your right," Ian says, his face still flushed. Mickey nods, avoiding eye contact, before hurrying to the washroom.

Mickey leans against the washroom door, his head tilted back, letting the word _boyfriend_ echo inside his head. Mickey Milkovich didn't do boyfriends. He'd struggled with coming to terms with his sexuality when he was younger, growing up in a household where being gay equated to being bashed over the head with an iron bat. He'd gotten over his issues and had accepted himself (which was, granted, mostly due to Mandy), but it didn't mean he was going to go for the whole loving, romantic relationship bullshit. He liked having guys he fucked without all the complications of a relationship.

He quietly opens the door and steps out, hearing the muffled voices from the living room.

"…your boyfriend is like a squirrel!" Lip says with a loud laugh. Mickey clenches his fists, gritting his teeth.

Yup. He hated the dude.

"Shut up, asshole! Why'd you call him that, anyways? I told you how he is," he hears Ian hiss back angrily.

"What, your boyfriend? You two have been goin' on dates and shit for a couple months now, so isn't that what he is?"

Mickey wants to storm into the living room and throttle Lip's stupid face for calling what he and Ian did _dating_.

"We're not dating!" he hears Ian insist back, "we're just fucking." Mickey's glad that Ian hadn't taken what they were doing as more than just fucking; besides, Mickey _liked_ hanging out with Ian, so the sex was just a bonus.

"Fucking involves your dick going in his ass and calling it a day; not grabbing dinner and going to the movies or drinking at bars! Both of you are fucking dumbasses, I swear," Lip replies, and Mickey rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably as every time Ian and Mickey had hung out runs through his mind.

"Look," he hears Ian huff out, "Mickey doesn't do boyfriends or relationships, and I'm fine with our arrangement, okay?"

Mickey peers around the corner of the wall, just as Lip shakes his head in exasperation.

"Man, I was so proud of you when you stopped fucking around with geriatrics and finally with someone your own age. This isn't _you_ , Ian. You're the type of guy who does relationships and flowers and the whole nine yards. And I don't want this fucker hurting you just because he's incapable of having a real relationship," Mickey hears Lip's voice go softer, and watches him shift to put an arm around Ian's shoulders.

A sense of guilt washes over Mickey, because he hadn't realised Ian was the relationship type of guy. He'd just figured Ian making him breakfast in the mornings when he slept over or randomly texting him throughout the day because that's the kind of person he was.

"Lip, _I'm fine._ Just please don't use that word around him, he has his own issues, alright?" Ian says.

"Just make sure you're using protection, yeah? Don't wanna get STDs because he's fucking around with other dudes," Lip says jokingly with a laugh.

Mickey rolls his eyes, before making a show of opening the washroom door again and shutting it loudly, and walking out into the living room.

"He still here?" Mickey asks, cocking an eyebrow up in Lip's direction. Lip scowls back at him, before standing up and shoving a couple textbooks into his backpack.

"Don't worry, jackass, I was just leaving _my_ apartment," Lip hoists the backpack up on his shoulder, before grabbing a set of keys off the coffee table. "Goin' to Amanda's," he says in Ian's direction, before shooting Mickey a hostile smile and exiting out the front door.

Ian shoots Mickey an uneasy smile, before picking up his beer and chugging the whole thing. Mickey watches the pale expanse of Ian's throat as his Adam's apple bobs up and down with each swallow, and the inside of his mouth goes dry.

"Your brother's an asshole," Mickey offers after a few minutes of silence. Ian lets out a laugh, before knocking his shoulder against Mickey's.

"Nah, he's just over-protective sometimes," Ian says with an apologetic smile, "sorry about uh, what he said. Y'know."

Mickey gives Ian a twisted half smile, which probably borders a painful grimace, to be honest, if Ian knitting his eyebrows together in confusion as a response is any indication.

"So we gonna fuck?" Mickey blurts out after a few more moments pass, while Ian at the same time says, "are you fucking someone else?"

Mickey's eyebrows shoot up, and he remembers what Lip had told Ian. "I – _what_?"

"I dunno, man. We haven't used condoms a few times and I just wanna be sure that I won't… you know," Ian says, his face reddening slightly, and Mickey can't help but think that the idiot looks kind of cute when he's nervous.

"I'm clean, alright?" Mickey assures him instead of directly answering the question.

"Yeah but–" Ian begins again, playing with a loose thread on his t-shirt, before Mickey leans over and splays his body across Ian's, pushing him down into the couch.

Mickey leans his forehead against Ian's, lining his crotch up with Ian's stomach and rubbing his half-hard dick against the redhead's abdomen. With one hand propping himself up, and the other slinking down to grab at Ian's crotch, Mickey stares straight into Ian's eyes as his pupils dilate and his breath stutters.

Mickey moves downwards, placing his lips against the pale column of Ian's throat, and bites hard, causing Ian to let out a loud moan. "But _what?_ " Mickey says in between bites, working his way across Ian's collarbone, licking a long stripe with his tongue. Ian shudders, his breath coming in short gasps as Mickey's hands plunge down his pants, palming his dick from underneath his boxer briefs.

"Bedroom," Ian manages to hiss out as Mickey's fingers circle the tip of his cock. Mickey ignores him, pressing Ian deeper into the couch, his hand working Ian to full length with quick movements.

"Don't have lube in the living room, Mick," Ian says between a moan, arching his back up off the couch.

"Thought you were a boy scout, prepared and shit," Mickey says with a grin as he clambers off Ian, quickly undoing his belt and yanking his shirt off, tossing it on the couch. Pulling Ian up off the couch, Mickey slips his hand underneath the shirt, his hands tracing the planes of the muscles, before helping the taller man with his shirt.

Mickey shoots Ian a quick, appreciative once over, before Ian grabs him by the wrist, dragging him down the hall and into his bedroom. Mickey barely has a moment to take in the darkened room, before Ian's grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up, tossing him onto the bed.

"Wow, towels, huh?" Mickey says, glancing down at the towels Ian had artfully arranged beforehand, "they teach you this in boy scouts as well?"

"Yeah, Mick. In between learning to shoot at long ranges and taking someone out with one hand, they taught us how to fuck other dudes in a cordial manner," Ian huffs out with a laugh. Mickey grins in response, kicking off his underwear quickly, while Ian struggles with the zipper on his jeans.

"Fuck, the zipper's stuck," he groans, his fingers working impatiently at the stubborn zip. Mickey rolls his eyes as he wraps one hand around his dick, stroking the length slowly. He watches Ian bite his lip in frustration, and the way his a piece of his hair fell into his eyes before he blew it off his face in annoyance. Admiring the picture Ian made with jeans slung low on his hips, with his nicely defined six pack leading to a V shape deep into his jeans, Mickey lets out a soft groan as his hand increases its speed.

Ian glances up in confusion at the sound, before his eyes widen in shock. "You dick! You can't start without me!"

Mickey simply parts his lips and leans back, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Then hurry the fuck up," he says between moans, using another hand to cup his balls, palming them gently. 

Ian gives a desperate yank at his jeans before they finally come loose. Tossing them into a dark recess of his room, he stumbles towards the bed, tripping slightly over his feet, and Mickey lets out a laugh. "You are so fuckin' smooth, man. Where'd you learn these skills? I'm amazed that you've managed to pick up so many g–"

Ian cuts Mickey off swiftly with a hard press of his lips against the dark haired man, who lets out a squeak of surprise, before melting into Ian's body. Ian pries Mickey's lips open with a swift swipe of his tongue, before plunging his tongue deeply into Mickey's mouth. Ian lets out a small, keening noise as Mickey's tongue presses warmly against his, and he tangles his hands in Mickey's dark hair, tugging slightly. His tongue traces the walls of Mickey's mouth gently, before roughly biting down on Mickey's lip with a nip of his teeth. Mickey pushes his tongue deeper into Ian's mouth, until Ian's a panting mess on top of him, his moans filthy and loud, causing Mickey to rut against the redhead's hard body. 

Mickey's hands wrap themselves around Ian's neck, pulling him in closer so that there's barely a millimetre of space between the two of them, and he grinds his dick against Ian's, relishing the broken moan that emanates from the redhead's throat. One of Ian's hands trail down Mickey's body, tracing every sharp dip and turn, before wrapping a hand around the base of Mickey's cock.

"Lube," Mickey murmurs against Ian's lips, before pulling away slightly. Ian leans over Mickey's body, yanking open his night table and extracting a bottle of lube and a condom.

Ian sits up abruptly, dropping the lube and condom next to him. "Turn over." Mickey flips over quickly, leaning on his forearms with his legs spread. Ian bends down, one hand tracing Mickey's ass, and spreading his cheeks. Bending his head down, Ian licks a long stripe from the base of Mickey's spine to his hole. 

"Seriously, Gallagher? You gonna fuck me or wh–" Mickey's words are cut off when he feels a warm tongue probing his entrance.

"Oh – oh, _fuck_ ," he hisses out, arching his ass against Ian's face. Ian's tongue swirls around Mickey's tight ring of muscle experimentally, before he slips a finger inside Mickey's ass. Ian's finger traces the walls of Mickey's ass gently, and Mickey lets out a broken moan, fucking himself against Ian's index finger, aching for the brush against his bundle of nerves.

"More," he says, just as Ian slips another finger deep inside, crooking his two fingers and brushing Mickey's prostate ever so slightly. The only lubrication Ian used was his own spit, so it burns slightly when Ian probes deeper into his warmth.

Mickey lets out another groan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as the feeling of Ian's finger brushing his prostate paired with his warm, wet tongue still working the outer regions cloud his senses. He can feel his cock leaking heavily from the slit onto the mattress, forming a small puddle of pre-come, as it aches for release. Mickey desperately grinds his ass against Ian's mouth, hoping to nudge the redhead's long, nimble fingers in deeper, but all he hears is a warm chuckle reverberating against his body, just before Ian plunges his tongue in deeper, causing Mickey to bury his face into a pillow, letting out a muffled scream. One of Ian's hands snake out and yank the pillow out from underneath Mickey, his loud moans now filling the air. Mickey's knees begin to shake as Ian slips another finger in, working the tight ring of muscle, before Ian pulls his fingers out and quickly flips Mickey onto his back. Mickey lets out a groan of protest at the loss of Ian's tongue and fingers, ready to argue, until he sees Ian's expression. 

His lips are red and wet, and his green eyes are dark as he watches the dark haired man on his bed. "You're so fucking needy, Mick," Ian says, his voice low and throaty and shooting straight to Mickey's dick. Ian's breath is warm on Mickey's face and Mickey's senses are hazed over because Ian smells _so fucking good._ He ruts against the redhead's body, aching for any sort of friction to get him off. 

"Ride me," Ian demands, grabbing the bottle of lube, and squirting a generous amount onto his cock, slicking himself up. Mickey nods quickly, his breath still coming in short, shallow bursts, knowing that he'd probably agree to murder if Ian asked him right now.

Ian leans back on the bed, allowing Mickey to climb over his body, resting his weight on his arms. Mickey grabs at Ian's dick, slowly easing himself over the tip, until he sinks down in one go. Ian's mouth gapes open and a string of expletives slip out.

"God, you look so fucking good, Mick. Fuck, oh god, so tight," Ian manages to breathe out as Mickey begins working himself up and down Ian's thick length, aiming Ian's cock at his prostate. Mickey's hands brace themselves against Ian's chest, so that he's slanted at an angle, and Ian's thrusting his hips up in synchronised time with Mickey. Ian's hands are wrapped tightly around Mickey's waist, his fingers pushing in so deep that Mickey knows there'll be small, purple bruises lining his body tomorrow morning.

Mickey can feel his cock bouncing painfully with every stroke, aching with neglect as the tension builds and the blood shots down further south. Ian thrusts his hips up sharply a few more times, slamming into Mickey's prostate harshly in quick succession, causing Mickey's mouth to fall open and his back to arch, his head tilting back in ecstasy.

"Oh fuck, _Ian_ –," he says brokenly, and Ian increases his speed, and the only thing running through Mickey's mind is Ian's name over and over like a prayer. Ian's hands travel down from his waist, his long, pale fingers wrapping themselves tightly around the base of Mickey's cock, stroking slightly. A broken whimper escapes from Mickey's throat as Ian tugs lightly on his balls, cupping them in the palm of his hand. 

His brain doesn't even stop and think when Ian hisses out, " _mine_ ," with a sense of determination and anger, punctuating the word with another sharp thrust that hits Mickey's bundle of nerves, causing a spike of pleasure to travel up his spine. "Mine," he hisses out again, slowing his thrusts slightly so Mickey can feel every inch of Ian inside his ass. 

"Say it, Mick," Ian demands. 

"Yours," Mickey finds himself babbling out in agreement, just as Ian gives one final thrust, and Mickey lets out a shattered groan as his cock releases thick streams of come against Ian's chest. Ian's movements jerk and stutter slightly, as he comes inside of Mickey with a loud shout, his body convulsing in short spasms.

Mickey eases himself off gingerly, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness and the feel of Ian's come seeping down his thighs. Grabbing a semi-clean towel, he wipes at the come and sweat that's beginning to crust his body, tossing it over to Ian afterwards.

"Fuck, Gallagher, what got into you? Not that I'm complaining; you gotta do that thing with your tongue more," Mickey says with a grin. Ian flips over, leaning on his elbows with a serious expression.

"Are you fucking other people?" Ian questions, and Mickey pushes down the sting he feels in his chest over Ian's hurt expression.

"You didn't use the condom," Mickey says slowly, jerking a head towards the unopened packet.

Ian ignores him. "Come the fuck on, Mickey! Can you just be straight-up with me for once?"

"Jesus Christ, Ian. When the fuck would I be screwing other guys? Half the time I'm exhausted from fucking you, and the other half I'm hanging out with you! I haven't fucked anyone else ever since I met you!" Mickey finds his tone climbing higher and higher with every word, irritated at the redhead's inability to read between the lines.

"Really?" Ian says hopefully, his green eyes lighting up, and Mickey finds himself smiling slightly in response.

"Really, asshole. Don't make this something that this isn't though," Mickey says warningly. He feels his heart drop in his chest as Ian's elated expression slips off his face, and kind of hates himself for being emotionally constipated.

Mickey thinks Ian's dropped the topic after a few minutes of silence, before it's broken again.

"I can't, though. I _like_ you, Mick. And I mean I really, really like you. I don't wanna do this casual fucking thing anymore."

Mickey props himself up on the headboard of the bed, leaning away from Ian's probing eyes. "I – fuck," Mickey manages to say, before he scowls at himself for his inability to utilize the English language.

Upon seeing Mickey's scowl, Ian's blood runs cold and he quickly grabs a pair of underwear that lies abandoned by his bed, yanking them on, preparing for Mickey to bolt out of his apartment. He begins to clamber out of his bed, before he feels an arm grab at his wrist, pulling him back in.

"Shit, will you just wait one fuckin' second?" Mickey says roughly, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I'm not good at this stuff, Ian. Look, none of this," Mickey waves his arms around ambiguously, "was easy for me, alright? I don't let guys sleep over, I don't let guys kiss me, and I sure as fuck don't let guys take me out to dinner and on – well, I guess they're fuckin' dates, huh?" Mickey says with a slightly hysterical laugh.

"But?" Ian says, urging Mickey on.

"I… I don't know, alright? Shit, I like you too, Ian, but I'm fucked up, okay? And yeah, I'll fucking try for you, but I'm not gonna be the best boyfriend or an–"

For maybe the third time that night, Ian cuts Mickey off, his heart jumping into his throat with glee at the mention of the word _boyfriend_ – this time, from the mouth of the right person as opposed to his brother.

Mickey falls back onto the bed when Ian's lips attack him, kissing him slow and deep, his tongue tracing the inside of his mouth sensually. Ian's hands lightly run across Mickey's body, and Mickey bites down at Ian's lower lip, drawing it in between his teeth and then releasing. Ian shudders against Mickey's body, before pulling away and resting his forehead against Mickey's.

"Does this mean we do couple things now?" Ian says with a grin.

Mickey lets out a laugh, before smiling back at the redhead's infectious happiness. "I thought we already did," he says teasingly.

Ian's grin widens even further, threatening to split his face in half.

"You look like a maniacal clown when you do that," Mickey says, his arm snaking around Ian's waist and pulling him flush against his side.

"Yeah, but you love it," Ian replies, his eyes light and teasing. Mickey buries his face in Ian's chest, before letting his own face-splitting grin form against Ian's warmth.

Yeah, he kinda did love it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos would be hella rad :-)


End file.
